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7
Though the shriek of wind sounding from unseen speakers and the moonlit glow radiating from the black painted ceiling give the impression of being outdoors, it’s clear that I’m not.
It’s just a big, empty, unsettling space that I quickly make my way through.
When I reach the end, there’s a narrow doorway that leads to another room, also painted black. Except this one features a long dirt path cut down the center, with a forest of fake pine trees bordering each side.
I follow along, my heels crunching over the gravel, when I notice an old doll lying abandoned on the side of the trail. Her dress is filthy, her hair trashed, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear her dull, vacant gaze actually follows me as I pass.
It’s not until the way forks to the right that I recognize the doll as my favorite childhood toy.
Okaaay…
I run my hands over my arms to ward off a shiver and hurry toward a door that I’m hoping will lead me to the sort of exclusive underground club Elodie promised. Though honestly, I’m beginning to doubt it even exists. Because it’s really starting to look like Elodie is having a bit of fun at my expense.
And then I see the doll again.
And again.
An entire chain of vacant-faced dolls, all of them leading to a single grave at the end.
Whoever designed this is fully committed to their vision. But still…what kind of creep show is this?
I stop before a fresh mound of dirt, strangely feeling more curious than scared. There’s a headstone there, with an angel perched at the top. One of her hands clutches a pocket watch, the other points toward the sky.
Engraved on the stone is my name, my birthdate, and the day of my death…
Today.
